


and it wears me out

by falsettolands



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Reconciliation, Self-Harm, Sibling Bonding, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, is this all in canon? who knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 13:07:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsettolands/pseuds/falsettolands
Summary: to connor, he is broken beyond repair. to zoe, connor can never return to how he was. maybe they can both be surprised.-or a sibling reconciliation/redemption arc steven levenson didn't give us so i'm giving it to myself





	and it wears me out

**Author's Note:**

> hey so i'm real sad rn and definitely projecting how I feel onto Connor so sorry this is so dark uh yikes. 
> 
> major major major trigger warning guys the suicide attempt is a bit graphic so please please don't read unless ur comfy w it ok thx <3

He didn't know if he wanted the water to be too hot or too cold. He knew he didn't want the pleasant warmth that most baths bring to people, he wanted the unbearable extremity that either temperature brought. Should he freeze or should he burn? 

_"I'll do enough burning in Hell_ _, "_ He thought to himself, only half joking. The noise of the water was too loud, anything was too loud right now, his own thoughts in his mind seemed to be amplified at an uncomfortable volume. He couldn't escape from his mind and everything was too harsh, noises too loud, colors too bright, and thoughts too inescapable. He couldn't even out his breath as the tub began to fill.

Connor didn't want to admit it, but he wasn't sure of what he was doing. It seemed like a perfect opportunity; his parents were away in some eclectic city in the west for his father's work, but of course, since they're filthy rich they made a vacation out of a business trip. 

Zoe was at jazz band and wouldn't be back at the house for another hour or two. 

Which means that she would probably be the one to find him. 

It terrified him. 

Everything he was doing terrified him. 

He had threatened suicide so many times before but now, now that it was on his doorstep, asking to come in and make a home out of Connor's life, he was terrified. 

He wasn't even terrified of what would come after death for himself, but rather, how his death would impact his family. Not in the sense he felt they'd be so grief struck they couldn't go on. He was afraid the death of the oldest Murphy child would be a blessing to his parents and sister. That his funeral would turn into a celebration, to celebrate the fact that Larry Murphy never had to claim the kid with black nails, long hair, and combat boots as his own.

A celebration of the fact that Zoe would never have Connor's screams and threats be an alarm clock. She'd never have to ride in the passenger seat of his car again and she'd never have to smell the pot and alcohol on him on all hours of the day. She'd never have to call  _that_ her brother ever again. She could forget.

His mother could celebrate never having to worry about her son again. Never having to beg her perfect, lawyer, husband to send their faulty firstborn to rehab and therapy. She didn't have to stay up until 3 am every night to make sure he didn't leave or kill himself when the rest of the house was asleep. She would finally be free of that burden. 

He knew this is what his family deserved. His family deserved to never have to see the face of Connor Murphy again, they didn't need to be saddled with that burden for the rest of their life, it wasn't fair to them. 

But he was terrified that in their celebrations they would forget things about Connor. Things that seem to cling to Connor in a way that he couldn't shake. The way that he used to live, his old mannerisms, and likes, and how he dressed, lived inside of Connor like a ghost. 

He was terrified his dad would forget the way they used to make bets on baseball games, even though Connor never had an interest in them. He was afraid he'd forget that Connor used to not be able to sleep unless his Dad read to him. He was scared his mom would forget how he used to sit up with her almost every night and talk about everything and nothing as his mom sipped red wine until she was just tipsy enough to tell her tween son about her most ambitious and wild college nights. He knew she'd forget how he used to call her everytime they were away, how he never ended a call without _"I love you, Mom."_ He was terrified that Zoe would forget the times that they picked four-leaf clovers together and he'd always give her the ones that he found. He was terrified she wouldn't remember how they would sing to blink-182, Green Day, My Chemical Romance and other classic punk staples at the top of their lungs on the drive home from school in middle school. He knew they would forget him, they'd forget the good and remember the bad until they couldn't bear to remember him at all. 

He'd fade into only the existence of _"Hey, remember that kid who threw a printer at Mrs. G in the third grade?"_

He didn't want to be that, Connor wanted to be so much more than that, but at this point, he didn't even know how to stop screaming at his sister and smoking pot every night until 1 a.m. He was hopeless. He knew he needed to end his pain. 

He just didn't know how, not yet.  

Shakily as the steaming water spilled over the edges of the tub, Connor Murphy decided. He took the knife that he took from the kitchen months ago and raised the blade to his skin. 

1 cut and he'd never go to college.

2 cuts and he'd never watch another movie. 

3 cuts and he'd never tell Zoe how much she meant to him

4 cuts and he'd never come out to his mom. 

5 cuts and he'd never laugh again. 

After the sixth (or was it the seventh? maybe the eighth?) cut, he could only see red and white. His blood dripping down his forearm and pooling onto the bathroom tiles. The black of unconsciousness rippling into his vision and beckoning him into the sweet surrender of darkness. 

He was crumpled into the tub, fully clothes and bleeding, his head barely above the surface of the scalding, red water. 

His condition, his state of being, caused him to be none the wiser to Zoe pulling into the driveway, dropping her keys on the counter and kicking off her shoes. She climbed the stairs and heard the sound of the tub running and the ajar bathroom door, her brother's combat boots sticking up out of the tub. The red water dripping out onto the tiles.

Connor was already unconscious by the time Zoe screamed. 

__

 

The image of her brother's suicide attempt was a photograph Zoe couldn't erase from her memory. She could easily forget the sound of her brother's laugh and his favorite song but the image of his wrists and his body drenched in the bath water would be burned into her memory until the end of her days. 

The rest of that day was a burned into her memory as well, she remembered calling 911, the ride in the back of the ambulance, and the doctor telling her it didn't look good. She remembered the countless hours in the waiting room as the doctors worked tirelessly to keep her brother alive. She could tell you the color of the carpet and the receptionist name. 

But she couldn't tell you her brother's favorite song. 

She remembered vomiting right there in the hospitals waiting room.

She couldn't tell you who it was by or the album it was off of. She had forgotten his favorite book and movie and his favorite cartoon.

Zoe only remembered the Connor as of late. The Connor that harassed her and made her wish she didn't live in that house, the Connor that was destroying her family. 

She missed the Connor who would pick clovers with her, the Connor that would sing with her on the drive home, annoying the fuck out of Larry. 

She knew he was in there somewhere, now she was close to losing both that Connor, and the one she knew know. 

She got sick again. 

__ 

 

After two fucking hours of waiting, and puking on occasion, the Docter came out. He had to call their parents. Zoe wanted to refuse, she knew that Larry and Cynthia were the last people Connor wanted here, but she gave them their numbers anyways. It was only after the calls went straight to the voicemail that he told her she could see her brother. 

The scene in the hospital room was another image that could never be deleted in Zoe's memory. Her big brother laying pale, sick, and bandaged. He was hooked up to tubes and the bandages on his arms seemed too tight, she wanted to cut him loose of all these restraints and just hug him. Just to let him know that she was there. To see your older brother so vulnerable is something you cannot shake; you are taught that they are supposed to be the strong one. 

Zoe wasn't quite sure how she felt in that hospital room. On one hand, Connor had brought nothing but harm to her, threats of violence and rage were all that Zoe knew of her brother. But she knew that Conner was still there, because the boy who yelled at her and skipped school, the boy who made her mom cry and her father scream. The boy who would smoke weed on the roof of their suburban home until the ungodly hours of the night... that boy wasn't Connor. 

Connor was funny. and his favorite ice cream flavor was Mint Chocolate Chip. That's all she could remember of her brother. That fact made Zoe's heart shrink, no one deserved to be forgotten like that.

__

 

When Connor woke up, the first thing he noticed was Zoe. 

He didn't notice that he had tubes jabbed into him and liquid flowing into him, that he was bandaged from the elbow down on both arms, that his mouth was dry and his eyes were tired, that he was  _alive._

He noticed his sleeping sister half slouched onto the bed next to him. 

Connor stared at Zoe for awhile, She was wearing the clothes she had gone to school in and she looked so tired. He felt bad for her, he felt guilty, because he knew her pain was his fault. He realized all of the pain and abuse he put his sister through this past year, his heart sunk. He knew that his anger was irrational, but it wasn't until he was laying in a hospital bed, staring at his younger sister, who probably made the 911 call that saved his life, only then did he realize the extent of how he had treated her. 

He knew that his actions wouldn't immediately stop and after he got to check out he wouldn't magically turn into a ray of fucking sunshine. Mental illness didn't work that way. He'd have to fight. He had been to every therapist, counselor, clinic, rehab, and yoga retreat imaginable to try and cure him. But he wasn't being active, he knew his behavior, but he didn't actively try and fight against all the negativity. 

Seeing his little sister asleep on the hospital bed changed all that. He was going to fight like hell to get better. He had to.

__

 

It was well into the day before Zoe woke up. When she did though, she felt like utter shit. She felt as though she took a nap in the middle of the day and ended up waking up 30 hours later. Her hair was sticking to her face, her lips and mouth were dry and chapped and she could already feel a pain forming at the base of her neck. 

"Ohh fuck" she muttered to herself as she stretched her muscles awake. The pieces of the day before connected in her mind, suddenly remembering where she was she turned to face her brother.,

He was sat up, awake, and staying dead straight ahead of him. Zoe couldn't read his emotions, but then again, when could she ever? She could only ever tell when Connor was angry, he made that very, very evident. But, he didn't seem angry this time, his pale face had no complete fixated emotion. No scrunched eyebrow or protruding lip. He was blank, expressionless. His eyes looked dead, it less scared Zoe then it did worry her. 

"Hey" She made sure her voice was even, not too soft, not too casual. Empty, almost. 

His eyes moved to her, his chin slowly moving to her, besides that though, he remained still. 

"Hey." the corners of his mouth lifted in the slightest. His hair was unruly, it reminded Zoe of a lion. And she was seeing him smile, not a smirk out of spite or maliciousness. A real, natural smile. Zoe smiled back. 

The natural light of the morning illuminated all of the white in the room, the room, now felt so full. The tension of the silence between the siblings was palpable, you could cut it with a knife.

"Mom and Dad are coming up tonight," it probably wasn't the wisest thing to say to her rage-prone brother, but it had to be said eventually. 

Connor's eyes lulled back into his head in a roll as he brushed a hand down his face, groaning. 

"Perfect." his voice wasn't too harsh, the mild reaction gave Zoe a bit of hope. 

The silence between them continued. 

Connor interrupted the uncomfortable silence. 

"Hey... Zoe... I just, I wanted, I am trying to say that..." breath escaped from his lips, how does he even begin?

He makes eye contact with his sister, oh how he wished things were different. 

"Zoe, I... I'm sorry." The words fell flat, Zoe didn't expect them and therefore, didn't know how to respond to an apology she never expected to receive. 

"For everything, fuck, I mean the torment, the fucking  _abuse_ , It wasn't okay and I... I'm going to try... Whatever the Doctors make me do this time I promise you, I'll actually try."

Zoe bit her bottom lip and looked at the ground, slowly nodding. 

"I don't expect you to accept it, I know I don't deserve that." Connor hung his head, like a scorned puppy.

"Its, Its just going to take time you know, Connor. You do deserve it, Connor, I can promise you that, too" They met eyes again and shared a knowing smile. 

"Yeah." Connor hums to himself, he so wants things to be different, he wants to try.

The silence between them returned. This time though, it was more comfortable. Connor was beginning to feel peace. He couldn't remember the last time he felt at peace. Although he knew he'd have to face is parents (particularly Larry) that night, he felt calm. He felt as though things were going to be alright. He smiled to himself again. 

"Was it, _Fake Plastic Trees?_ " Zoe's eyes were fixated on a point Connor couldn't quite read. 

"Hmm?"

"Your favorite song, was it _Fake Plastic Trees_ , by Radiohead?"

Connor smiled, "Yeah, Yeah it is."

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> !!! i hope this was somewhat enjoyable op!  
>  the best part is figuring out is if this is in canon or not :o  
> thanks for reading~


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